


Snow White and the Captain

by fiftyzillion



Series: Snow White and the Captain [1]
Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Rebuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiftyzillion/pseuds/fiftyzillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking the Kingdom had been easy compared to rebuilding it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow White and the Captain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melodiousb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodiousb/gifts).



> Thanks to Morbane for the beta!

The ancient apple tree on the grounds of the royal castle bloomed that spring. The branches that had stood barren under Ravenna’s reign sprouted leaves and blossoms, showering the stones beneath with snowy petals. It was a good sign, Duke Hammond told Snow when they spoke as they commonly did in the evenings, and it promised that as she healed the deadwood, so would she heal the land. Ravenna’s poison was receding. Tales of a white stag came from the woods to the north. The marshland sinkholes were closing and the eyed flowers once again produced healing spores rather than powders that would warp your mind.

The rebuilding of the kingdom continued. The royal household moved temporarily into the southern palace as Ravenna’s former seat began to undergo extensive repairs. Snow prepared to move with it, remaining only to attend the spring rituals in the wake of the church coronation. She had become the Queen of the People, but she had yet to shed blood for the earth upon which she stood and drink the water of the Kingdom itself. Duke Hammond remained with her, the first of her vassals, along with William and the priest who oversaw the ritual.

The spring lay deep beneath the castle, where only the canniest folk or those in the know could go. Snow went down in the morning, alone but for the priest, and returned in the evening with a linen cloth wrapped around the cut in her hand. Her knees wobbled as she reached the top of the stairs that marked the entrance of the path below, and Duke Hammond steadied her with an arm under her elbow.

“It has been done, then?” he asked as he led her to an alcove where wine and bread had been prepared for her return.

“I think so.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Did my father do this?”

“And his father before him,” the Duke confirmed. “The castle itself was built on these grounds to protect the well.” He paused. “It truly is a wonder Ravenna didn’t find it.”

“The well protects itself,” the priest said as he appeared from the stairs. He bowed to Snow. “My Queen. If I may—?”

“Go,” she said with a smile – the dismissing wave that had been natural to her as a child came much less easily now. “You must be even more tired than I am.”

“My Queen is too kind,” he said with another bow and began to head towards the church and the rooms for the priesthood.

“You still lack the formality,” the Duke noted, her teacher in all things concerning court etiquette. “You have made remarkable progress however.”

“A tower can’t teach you court etiquette.” She tore a piece of bread from the still-warm bun, remembering only too late that it was not the way of the court. “I can only try and hope to one day succeed.”

Duke Hammond said nothing, but held out another bun. She took it with a grateful smile.

To try and hope to succeed would become her motto in those early days as she struggled to speak, to act, as a Queen would. The lessons from her childhood came slowly back to her, and the lessons the Duke assigned her filled in the gaps, but there was still much to learn. The day-to-day affairs of ruling the Kingdom had to be done in addition to this, even with an interim regency council to stand by her side. Taking the Kingdom had been easy compared to rebuilding it.

The day after the ritual, the Duke came to her with the subject of the Queen’s Guard in mind. She welcomed him and William into the room that had become her study and cleaned her desk of papers and books with a barely hidden sigh. Servants swarmed them briefly to set out a light meal, then she dismissed them, earning an approving look from Duke Hammond and an ill-hidden smile from William as she thanked them a little bit too earnestly for propriety.

“The matter of importance is, of course, the Captain of the Queen’s Guard,” the Duke said.

“I thought I had a captain,” Snow said, frowning as she tried to remember. “Frederick of Thornreach? He wears Duke Brahe’s colors, I remember him for the yellow shield.”

“That’s the castle guard,” William explained. He turned towards the Duke. “Father, I would like to—”

 “You’re the next Duke of Hammond,” the Duke said, cutting his son off with a wave Snow could never dream of emulating. “I let you make your decisions freely during the war because the future was by no means certain. Now that the throne is secure, you can’t gallivant about unchecked as you did. You’re a duke’s son and will take on the duties of such. Leading the Queen’s Guard is not part of those duties.” He turned to Snow. “My Queen, the political situation is far from stable. My son is right in one respect; you need someone you can trust, with a personal loyalty to you, to lead your guard.”

Snow thought of the skilled axe that’d protected her as they walked across the kingdom, then a hazy memory of a voice telling her of returning from a war. From William’s frown, she knew that he followed her thoughts.

 “You can’t know whether the Huntsman is equipped with the skill the position requires,” he told her with an urgency she suspected had little to do with his actual concerns. He’d never shown the ease she had with the leader of their small party during their travels. “You ought to choose someone with experience and acknowledged ability to lead men into battle.”

 “The Huntsman?” the Duke interrupted while Snow still attempted to clothe her opinions in words that wouldn’t easily be dismissed. “You speak of Eric of Goblinsford, the man with whom you fought Ravenna?”

“I do,” Snow said, silencing William with a look she had only then figured out how to wield. “A kind and brave man – one I would trust with my life.”

 “A suitable man,” the Duke agreed, holding up a hand when his son moved to speak. William’s face took on a mulish expression, but neither the Duke nor Snow paid him any attention. “He’s not unknown to me – he led troops in the war against Ravenna. His loyalty can’t be disputed – which I can’t deny is foremost of all concerns.”

“But father—” William began.

“Then it will be so,” Snow declared. “The Huntsman will be my Captain if he agrees.”

“Then I may yet hope he will not,” William muttered beneath his breath.

“And your hope will be futile,” the Duke said firmly. “Come, my son. The Queen ought to return to her studies and I believe this time is as good as another to return you to your own.”

Snow remained in her seat until the servants closed the door behind them, then went to peruse the courtyard spread beneath her window.

 “Huntsman,” she whispered and trailed her fingers over the thick glass.

Far beneath, a golden head tilted back to look up at her, as if hearing her call, then returned back to the tasks at hand.

***

As summer arrived, Snow left for a circuit of her kingdom to bring her healing presence to every nook and cranny that Ravenna’s presence had poisoned. Riding by her side as her newly sworn Captain, the man formerly known as the Huntsman led the carefully appointed Queen’s Guard that was in charge of her safety during the circuit. Leading men was not out of his experience, but to guard someone – especially someone of royal personage, friend or not – was very much so. Seldom did his hand leave the pommel of either sword or axe and seldom did his eye cease purveying their surroundings for dangers.

The dangers, of course, consisted not as much of brigands or rogue knights as they did of political enemies that had ties to either Ravenna or the kingdoms encroaching on their borders. In the wake of Ravenna’s rule, there were many entities seeking to find any trace of weakness in the young queen. This he knew, but his need for being alert was not a logical creature. A person he ... _cared_ very much for was in his protection and he would rather die than fail again.

_“I swear to be loyal, to be yours and yours alone. My blood is yours, my eyes are yours, my hands are yours. The God may take me, the Wild may take me, should the oath be broken. This I swear.”_

He’d sworn in front of Duke Hammond, in front of the troops, in front of the men (and women) that were now under his command. She had given the Captain’s sword and the blue and gold colors of the Queen’s Guard to him and he intended never to fail her, in any meaning of the word. For this reason, he sought her out at dawn the second day into their journey between the castle and Duke Hammond’s domain.

“Wake up,” he demanded quietly, bent close to her ear. His hand rested on her shoulder, guarded against the instinct to sit up that would come upon her at the moment of waking.

She opened her eyes with a sharp intake of breath, hand straying to the knife he knew she still wore. Her eyes flew to his, then her tense muscles slowly relaxed and he moved back.

“Huntsman,” she said and it was testament of the early hour that she remembered neither his name nor his rank.

“Nothing is wrong,” he told her. He held off the guards with a gesture when they moved to pull their swords, startled by his sudden presence among them. His ability to move quietly had been honed by the forest, and he had long since lost the common sense to alert his own men to his movements, something he would need to work on. “It’s time for you to resume your lessons in the art of war, my queen.”

She couldn’t quite hide the way her mouth tried to pull into a grimace – not at the suggestion, he knew, but at the necessity of it. “A good idea,” she sighed, then accepted his helping hand as she began to climb to her feet. “Would it hurt to wait until full daylight?”

 “We leave early and stop late.” He nodded towards Anna, who still saw through his intentions like none other did and came with gear he hadn’t thought to ask anyone bring.

 “I shouldn’t be surprised,” Snow told Anna as the two moved towards the part of the pavilion partitioned for the queen and her ladies.

“You should not, my queen,” Anna agreed. “Come, I have prepared armor for you.”

He let them be and stepped outside, pulling one of his men aside to have them alert the others and clear the training circle on the outskirts of the camp. When Snow came, clad in purposeful leather armor and a belt for a sword she did not carry, he waited for her with the sheath she had thought she left at the castle.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she checked the sword within. “I didn’t think I’d need it.”

 “Always carry it when you ride,” he advised. “The kingdom is far from safe, even for the queen.”

She settled into the basic defense stance they had taught her on the road between the dukedom and Ravenna’s seat so many weeks ago. “I will,” she said.

He nodded and drew his sword. “Prepare yourself.”

***

The circuit began to wear on them all as midsummer came and went, their planned route taking them down from the temperate highlands into the flatlands as the summer reached its height. The initial sense of formality began to wither and among the procession, friendships formed across ranks and otherwise rarely crossed lines. Some things didn’t change, however, even with relaxed behavior and laughter between unlikely friends. The Queen’s Guard was constantly alert and at Snow’s side, their Captain never had his hand far from a weapon.

As they began to move towards the eastern parts of the kingdom, however, she began to notice a change even in _his_ steadfast behavior. He had abandoned his love of drink when he accepted her offer of the position, taking only rarely a glass of wine with his meals. But the closer they came to the small baronies along the river flats at their eastern border, the less he did even that, and by the time they entered the town of Graafe, he did not touch drink at all.

They had planned to lodge at a large inn that had survived Ravenna’s reign intact because of its size and suitability as army lodging. The owners were new to the establishment however, and Snow found her guard tense and on their toes as they established her rooms and set up the perimeter for her protection. The Captain barely moved from her side and she found herself as tense as he was, twitching every time his eyes flickered the wrong way.

When the time came to withdraw for the night, he accompanied her to her bedchamber, her guardswomen parting to let him in where no other man was usually permitted.

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” she asked the moment the door closed behind them. “You are behaving strangely – the whole guard is.”

He went to the windows of the room and jerked the curtains closed. “Aye,” he said and she had to strain her ears to hear his voice. “Something is wrong. The flatlands … they were not known for their strong resistance against Ravenna. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“It’s not only that,” she challenged, moving to light the fireplace when no servant came to do so. He shook his head at her and motioned for her to step behind her dressing screen, beginning to pile the wood himself. “There is something more – something personal for you.”

He remained silent.

Snow hastened to take off jewelry and heavy outer robes, leaving herself in her linen shift and an embroidered night robe procured from her luggage. When she stepped around the screen, she found him standing half-turned away from her by the fire. The flickering light gave his face alarming shadows, his cheeks becoming gaunt and his eyes near invisible in the dark. He didn’t move when she came near, only looked up as she stopped in front of him.

“I hail from here,” he quietly said. “A very long time ago, I was born in this very city. Sarah – my dead wife – lived and worked in the bakery two streets over.”

Sarah. So that was her name. Snow filed the name away to return to at a later time. They had never spoken of his dead wife, even with the fledgling friendship between them.

“I tell you only this so you will understand,” he continued. “I know these people and this town. They never were the loyal subjects a king would wish for, even before Ravenna’s ascent to the throne.” A shiver went down Snow’s back. He frowned and took her arm to pull her closer to the fire, removing his cloak to fit it over her shoulders. “You ought to wear something more than that shift of yours.”

She breathed in the scent of him: sweat and oil and the harsh soap used by the troops, the cloak warming her to the core.

“Do you believe they are planning anything?” she said finally.

He met her eye. “I know they are. I could see people moving in before we entered the inn. They will have surrounded us by now.”

Her eyes widened. “And we entered the city?” The largest part of her guard was camped on the meadows outside – with her were only her Queen’s Guard, along with her servants and noble escort.

“The inn is defensible.” He patted the wall, thick stone blocks that emitted a chill that seeped into your bones if you touched it even with the flickering fire. “The rest of our company will be moving in now as well, surrounding the people surrounding us in turn. There is no danger.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” Her voices sounded belligerent even to her own ears, belligerent and _scared_.

He stepped closer, his hand closing around her upper arm and his eyes intent. “Because I believe you are a queen that wishes to know these things. Because I believe that if the fight comes to us, you would like to be prepared.”

She drew a shuddering breath. “There won’t be much sleep tonight.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Nothing that you’re a stranger to.”

“True,” she said, thinking of the revelry they’d put up just a few days ago on a whim, dancing into the night.

He fetched her sword and gave it to her. She unsheathed it partly, checking it for blemishes, then sheathed it again.

 “Stay with me?” she requested as he moved to leave.

He nodded, opening the door to say something to the guards on the other side, then returned to sit by her feet, leaning against the warm stone by the fire. It would seem a nonchalant way of guarding her had she not seen him move at the blink of an eye from positions more unlikely than that. She knew enough by now to know that his hand never moved from his weapons and that his eyes never stopped searching for oddities. She trusted him.

The morning came eventually and with it a report of the fighting and a list of casualties. Snow closed her eyes as she finished reading, the familiar names etching themselves into her heart and mind. Her Captain simply stood at her shoulder, a warm comfort as the Duke led her through what would have to happen now. Dealing with traitors was never pleasant business and if she cried after sentencing people to death, she knew he would never tell.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing stiff as she leaned her forehead against him. The guards had all turned their gazes away, pretending to see nothing. “It had to be done.”

 “A would-be king killer will always be a potential threat,” she quoted her teachers softly. “I don’t want to believe that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, then his chest heaved once and his free hand slowly came to cup the back of her head. “Things will be better when your rule is secure. You will have more leeway then.”

She tried to believe him.

***

The leaves had long since turned red and yellow when they finally returned to the castle. The royal council, having ridden ahead as he traveled with Snow through the last few villages, now met her in the courtyard and spirited her away for yet more education. He knew he would see her less often now and he found himself oddly reluctant to settle his guard into the barracks, attending to his duties before the dark fell.

The first snow began to dance from the skies as he made the roster of guards for the night and when he moved towards the main buildings and his own rooms, the guards had already begin to lit the braziers and torches lining the walls and turrets. A servant greeted him at the entrance, informing him about dinner and baggage, finishing with a request from the queen to dine with him later in the evening.

“Tell her I will be busy,” he said, knowing that there would be piles upon piles of paperwork to deal with in his study. Literate he might be, but a fast reader he was not.

The servant coughed. “The queen requested this several hours back. I believe she is waiting for you.” He swore, vicious curses that he had learned in the army and that truly had no place in a royal castle. The servant waited politely for him to finish. “There’s a bath prepared for you along with fresh clothing.”

“I understand,” he said, lengthening his step. “Tell her I will be with her shortly.” This he said over his shoulder as he started up one of the countless stairs in the accursed place they called castle.

“I will, Captain,” the servant replied pleasantly.

Sometimes, he could swear they were teasing him.

He found the bath and clean clothing as promised. It was less than a glass later when he walked into the private dining room attached to Snow’s apartment and found her reading in a window, the food cold on the table.

“You could have started without me,” he said as he took a chair.

“Then you wouldn’t have come.” She put down her book and joined him. “I know you too well.”

“You would have gotten warm food.”

“We’ve eaten worse, both of us, just the past week,” she pointed out.

Now that she had stepped into the light, he realized that she had also changed clothing. He’d become used to her travel garments – he’d quite forgotten the splendor she wore when not on the road. Velvets and embroideries, silks and lace that looked like spider’s web, all of it cut to make a man forget both sense and wit.

“Lovely dress,” he said.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “William expressed his appreciation as well. I can’t imagine why.”

“I’m sure you can’t.”

“Anna tells me I need to start thinking about children.”

He choked on his chicken breast.

She continued as if she hadn’t noticed, as if she was saying nothing of importance at all. “The Duke says that while marrying a noble from a neighboring kingdom would normally be the thing to do, it would not be recommended with our recent history. As I’m a woman, lineage isn’t as important, so Anna says – and the Duke agrees – that simply taking a lover and producing children without marriage might be the wisest thing to do as things stand. Marriage can be considered at a later point, but producing an heir is of more immediate worry.”

He finally managed to stop coughing, pouring himself some wine to soothe his throat.

“And this is what you intend to do?” he said roughly, trying not to think of certain people that she might consider suitable to be the father of the heir.

“I don’t know. I mean, I know, but I don’t have anyone in mind.” She stood, paced across the room. “I haven’t been queen for a year and they already want me to have children! You can’t have children just like that! It takes … companionship. Intimacy.”

“Aye,” he cautiously agreed, “that would be the normal course of things.”

She turned to him abruptly, something in her eyes making him shift uncomfortably. “You don’t have any children, do you?”

“Sarah and I were never blessed with children,” he replied slowly, wondering where this was leading. It felt as if she was building up to something.

“I thought so,” she said almost to herself, then she walked over, grabbed him by the face and bent as if to kiss him.

He managed to stop her before she got close enough, hands wrapping gently around her wrists and pushing her away. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” she said, still close enough he could see flecks of green in her eyes. “We’re friends – I find you handsome enough, and you liked my dress.”

 “For one thing,” he told her, modulating his tone of voice carefully, “I’m the captain of your guard. You should not take that lightly. Second, I don’t believe I would like being used merely for the sake of producing children.”

“I’m not making light of you,” she said softly.

“I know.” He let go of her wrists and she stepped back, rubbing at her skin even though he knew she would not have the faintest of marks. “I believe I should go.”

He forced himself not to look over his shoulder as he left her rooms, not even when he heard something that sounded like a sob. Anna passed him in the hallway outside, stopping him with a touch.

“You said no?” she asked.

He looked at her. “I did.”

“Good.” She nodded and moved into the queen’s rooms, leaving him to walk alone back to his quarters.

There, alone at last, he slumped down in a chair by the fire, head in his hands and wishing that he still drank. If Snow had been the village girl he had thought she was when they first met… They could have been married with a baby on the way by now. Not that there was any use in thinking of such things.

He moved to his desk and the stacks of papers resting unsafely on top of it. He might as well begin working.

***

Winter deepened and as her namesake, Snow began to settle, both into her home and into her duties. Her outburst at their return became an awkward memory and then less than that as they had other matters to consider. The Duke didn’t mention children again, nor did Anna, and she found herself relieved at the respite. She didn’t truly want children – not yet, not without a relationship and love in the picture – and as much as she cared for him, her Captain didn’t seem to care for her quite the same way. Theirs was a friendship, even a deep one, but not one that lent itself to sharing a bed – not from his point of view. So she focused on becoming the better queen her kingdom needed. She wanted to finally let her regency council step back and be queen in practice as well as name.

It was not long after solstice that she had retired after lunch to her study, intending to put in some work, when the door opened and he stepped in without invitation, as was his habit and right.

 “My queen,” he said and caught her eye as she looked up from her work, a habit he alone dared have.

“Captain!” She motioned for him to sit. “I thought you’d gone to the encampment for the day.”

He shook his head and took a seat after unbuckling both sword and axe belt, hanging them on the worn back of a chair. “William has returned. I thought it would be more useful to be here. It’s been too long since I checked on your progress with the sword.”

“You won’t be happy with me,” she warned, putting away her work. “Swords haven’t been very high among my priorities as of late.”

“I’ve seen the things you’ve worked on instead. I can’t blame you for putting people ahead of weapons.” He took the goblet of water a servant gave him with a nod. “I expect my presence will motivate you to practice more, however.”

Withdrawing to her dressing room to change her clothing, Snow raised her voice to respond. “You know it will. The bruises you deal when you find fault in your student are fearsome to see.”

“Then let me find no fault,” he called back.

“Something I have yet to manage.” Snow returned as she laced her armor bodice tight over her rough linen shift and padded tunic. “Let’s go. The thrashing you will give me should help me build some appetite for dinner.”

He gently pushed her hands away when she fumbled with fastening her armguards, taking over the task himself. “Sounds like you’ll dine late.”

“So _we_ will, once you decide you’ve kept me long enough. Today, I’m dining with you.” When he frowned, she smiled. “I have things I wish to speak with you about, captain, and little time to spare. You are likely to be angry with me and I’m hoping for dinner to help keep things pleasant.”

 “My queen,” he began.

“No, let’s not start quarreling early. Or, if we must, let’s do it with axe and sword.”

He shook his head. “As you wish, my queen.”

There was still disapproval in his voice, but she couldn’t do anything about that. There would be time later to explain and convince. For now, what she wanted was his company and a workout in the training ring.

“No,” he said some hours later, facing her over a table spread with delicacies that tempted neither of them. “You are not going alone.”

“I can’t bring anyone with me either,” she pointed out. “To the heart of the forest, yes, but not to the deep place. You won’t be allowed to accompany me.”

“Then you will not go.”

“We must find out if the stag has returned. There’s no one else who can go.”

He made a frustrated noise – he had to be remembering the last time she had been there. She knew that she certainly was. “You will let me bring the entire guard,” he told her. “And you will not protest any security measures I decide to take.”

“You’re the captain,” she told him. “I will follow your advice.”

***

In the aftermath of the journey, he took no pleasure in being right. He certainly took no pleasure in having been lured away by the simplest of tricks, leaving her to fight for her life with only a handful of guards and Beith’s men for help. He knew that the brigands had been just as large a threat as the assassins she’d been forced to dispatch of herself, but it didn’t help the fact he felt as if he should’ve been at her side.

“Don’t scare the girl,” Beith cautioned him as they rode into camp. “She won’t want to listen to your recriminations right now.”

He knew Beith was right, but he still had to bite his tongue when she stalked towards him, blade at her hip and her face paler than it ought to be when he hadn’t been the one in danger. She didn’t say anything when she reached him and he didn’t stop her when she reached for his face. She touched his cheek briefly, then threw herself around his neck – not sobbing but tenser than a bowstring and shaking like an asp leaf.

From behind her back, Beith motioned for him to say something. “I heard you did well,” he said after a moment. His hands hesitatingly settled on her waist.

 “You taught me well,” she said into the dirty wool of his cloak. “The messenger said there were more than three scores of them.”

“They were badly armed and badly trained.” He pushed her firmly away and searched her eyes. There was no battle fear or crippling regret like some soldiers after their first true battle in them. “You’re a sword maiden now.”

She smiled through wet eyes. “Anna calls me a battle queen of old.” Her hand caressed the pommel of her sword. “I understand why you insisted now.”

“You would have worn it even had I not,” he pointed out.

“But I would not have taken it as seriously,” she admitted.

He didn’t disagree, knowing well the differences between swordplay and sword work. He did, however, squeeze her shoulder before moving to question the soldiers that had been with her during the ambush. They had survived the plot, now it was time to see that it never happened again.

***

Snow couldn’t sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw blood running down her wrists, the stained and ripped cloak that her Captain had worn when he returned. She didn’t know what disturbed her more: having killed with intent or realizing that once again he had almost died to protect her.

Lying with her eyes closed near the brazier in her tent, she could hear him move around outside, soothing his men as she knew she would have to soothe her nobles when she returned. The Duke would be … upset.

The tent flap opened, but she didn’t move. It would be him, she knew, coming to make sure that she had settled. The light glowing through her eyelids flickered as he knelt beside her, a hand running over her brow.

“Sleep well,” he said, then, as soft as a feather, he bent and kissed her forehead.

She opened her eyes after he had left, touching where his lips had been. Then she rolled to her other side and tried to go to sleep.

She dreamt that night, and for once, those dreams gave her answers.

***

The deepest winter gave way to early spring and with the budding of the cherry trees in the burgeoning orchard outside the castle came the matter of the spring rituals. There was no one that didn’t have the journey at solstice in fresh memory and foremost of the worriers was Snow herself. She didn’t say this to anyone, of course, but those who knew her – as he most certainly did – felt her doubts as the time to leave for the ritual approached.

 “You need to speak to her,” Anna said one day, cornering him on the way to her study. “She listens to you as she doesn’t listen to even the Duke.”

He shook his head. “I can’t counsel her in this. It’s a matter that a simple captain should not touch.”

Anna looked at him, disappointment clear as day in her eyes. “But is it the captain speaking or a simple coward?” She shook her head. “You disappoint me, Captain.”

Her words weighed at his mind, needling him as he and Snow discussed the need to reinforce the ranks of the guard and the increasing problems with contention between Queen’s and Royal Guards’. As he climbed to his feet to go, he found that he couldn’t help but voice the opinion he had decided not to share.

“We ought to leave within the week,” he said, not looking at her as he buckled his sword and axe on once again. “The weather is like to be worse once the spring winds set in and I would rather not travel through sleet to the Heart.”

“You think I ought to go,” she said softly. “I was wrong to insist the last time, we nearly died—“

“The rituals have to be performed.” He stayed with his back to her, knowing he wouldn’t be able to say what needed to be said when faced with her anguished eyes. “The forest became the Dark Forest for lack of the rituals. If you allow it to return you’re not the queen I thought you were.”

“I wish I were the queen you think I am,” she retorted, then sighed. “We will go as you advise.”

He turned then, allowed her to catch his eyes. “My queen,” he said, then bowed – an act as rare between them as a raised voice.

The smile she aimed at him quivered but was nonetheless strong for that. “Captain.”

***

They left late in the week and returned late the week following. There were no incidents, nothing remarkable at all, and they all returned with lighter hearts and a greater faith in the year to come. Snow sought the captain out once back in the castle, intending to thank him, but didn’t when he simply shook his head and patted her back.

“We’re friends as well as sire and liege,” he said. “I’ve been told this is what friends do.”

“This is what remarkable friends do,” she corrected him. She briefly touched the hand that always rested on his pommel. “I wish you’d speak openly to me more often. Your insights are more than welcome.”

He shook his head. “My insights are best left to matters concerning war and your protection. I’m of common birth – matters of politics and ruling are not within my knowledge.”

“Common sense knows no rank,” she said, but relented, “but I know what you mean.”

***

Spring settled in to stay and Snow found herself buried under work she had escaped the previous year by leaving for the circuit. The council was slowly turning duties over into her hands and she struggled until she learned the skill of delegating and of what people to entrust with which duties. The Duke guided her not with suggestions but with questions and when his domain drew him away from court, William did the same.

It had been long since she had been given the opportunity to spend time with her childhood friend due to their separate duties and she found that with those months between their meetings, her views and memories of him were both altered. It also seemed as if he saw her more clearly now – not his childhood friend who had been lost, but a woman with a sword who needed no rescuing. She was not surprised when the Duke came to her with a proclamation shortly after the celebrations of the spring fires was over – William was to be married. Snow knew the young woman in question and didn’t doubt they could be happy, not merely content with each other.

She confessed as much to the Captain as they walked together from their daily practice, his face taking on a thoughtful appearance as she spoke.

“The lad would’ve given up the girl at so much as a raised eyebrow from you,” he said when she had finished her news.

“Before, perhaps. But I believe that he knows better now – I’m not the girl he once knew who needed his protection.”

“Need his protection, no,” he agreed, “but he still harbors feelings for you. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.”

She thought about that as servants took away her sword and helped her remove her armor. “Is that what you see when you look at me?” she finally said, reluctant to meet his eyes. “My feelings for you?” They’d never spoken about her outburst of the previous winter, never mentioned her confession. Just as she had never mentioned that she remembered his kiss, fearing to learn it was nothing like what she’d imagined.

He was silent, then he bent to catch her eye, much as he had on their first meeting so long ago. “I only see you,” he said, words spoken as if he was afraid they would run away from him.

She drew a breath, and would have asked him to clarify, but the servants swarmed her to bring her to the bath they’d prepared and the moment was lost.

***

Midsummer began to close in on them and Snow could feel the excitement rise in the people around her. They hadn’t observed the festival the previous year, the circuit preventing any larger festivities, and now the people was looking forwards to meeting their queen. The commoner’s festival – when the queen walked among her subjects and would hear their words from their own tongues.

 “Of course,” the Duke said as they walked towards the gate to join the huge spectacle that had risen on the meadows outside the castle, “it doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t show you respect. Neither does it mean that you ought to mingle with them more than necessity demands.”

There was a suspicious noise of amusement from the Captain and Snow hid a smile of her own behind a hand. He knew her well – she had no intention to keep to the lines the Duke was attempting to draw.

“I remember dancing with village children in the years before my mother died,” she said instead. “We had flowers in our hair and when we got tired, we bought ourselves candied apples from the weird old woman by the food stands.”

The Duke frowned. “You were a child then, Snow. You are a woman now. A _queen_.”

She waved her hand. “Let’s not talk of it further.” She quickened her step to catch up with the Captain. “Would it be terribly amiss of me to run the rest of the way?” she murmured for his ears alone.

“The Duke would have a heart attack,” he replied, but she caught him giving his guards hand signals on the side hidden from said Duke.

“I have a wonderful physician at the castle.” She glanced at the Duke over her shoulder. “And he looks hale to me.”

One of her guards – a woman recruited from among the river village – fell in beside her with a smile. There was a flower tucked into the collar of her chain mail. “It’s the Commoner’s Festival, my queen. If I may say so – I remember your father dancing with several women from the village.”

Snow thought about that for a moment, then grabbed fistfuls of her buttercup yellow skirts and raised an eyebrow at the Captain. “Think you can keep up?”

“As always, my queen.”

The expression on the Duke’s face as she took off was recounted to her several times that day and Snow smiled every time someone did. Contrary to what the Duke had wanted, she spent every moment she could walking among the celebrants, wishing them health and luck and taking their concerns and well-wishes in return. The Captain walked beside her, the guard fanned out around her and as she danced in the arms of a miller she knew she was as safe as in the castle itself.

When dusk began to fall – later than it would at any other time of year and as fleeting as the sun in winter – the fires were lit and the maypoles raised. A fiddle, then many, began to play and a different kind of dancing began – not the circle dances that had flourished earlier in the day but the kind that was meant for two people alone.

Snow sat on a rock and watched, her feet weary and her heart filled with joy. The Captain sat beside her, looking wholly unlike himself in only sleeveless leather armor and a single axe at his belt.

“I loved this festival as a child,” she confessed. “The dancing, the music – being able to play with other children than William. I found being a princess a very lonely existence.”

He nodded, his face broad and relaxed. “So did I. I came to the royal festival once – I think I even danced with you, though you were likely too small to remember.”

She thought back at hundreds of small faces and wished she knew which of them was his. “I wish I did remember.”

“Aye,” the Captain softly said, something in his face telling her that he was far away in mind – perhaps with the young girl he had once danced with.

The song came to an end and Snow turned to look thoughtfully at the Captain. He would protest, she knew, but only if she gave him the chance to. She caught the eye of her secondary guard and inclined her head towards him. The guard nodded with a smile and the score of guards surrounding her subtly moved to allow for her wishes.

“Come!” she said and took the Captain’s hand. He rose without thinking, following her lead, then balked as he realized her intentions.

“My queen—”

“Please,” she said, then added, “It’s the _festival_.”

“Go on, captain,” the guard said with an ill-hidden smile. “We will stand guard for you.”

He muttered something highly uncomplimentary under his breath but allowed her to drag him onto the dancing ground, then surprised her when he spun her into a deft twirl before catching her again. He laughed when she looked at him, eyes wide, leading her into a set of steps that she’d never seen before.

“I _am_ a commoner, my queen,” he reminded her. “I believe I have danced far more than you have.”

“Then I will trust you to lead.” She stepped in closer – closer than you _could_ if you did not trust your partner to keep you balanced. There was a hoot from the onlookers, then the fiddles raised the speed and he swept her away with a sure hand that sent her laughing as the air was pushed from her lungs.

When the music slowed again, her hair had blown from her braids and there were flowers trailing where their ribbons had come loose. He caught a red poppy falling and tucked it into her hair again, holding her steady with one arm alone. Her heart skipped as their eyes met, then the music went silent and she had to step back, her arms falling to her sides.

“Thank you for the dance, my queen,” he said gravely.

She smiled shakily and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you as well, Captain, for dancing with me.”

The guardswoman waiting by their stone perch was smiling suspiciously when they returned, holding out two goblets of lemon-scented water. “The Duke came by. He thought you might need something to drink after that.”

Snow took one and sipped. “Your captain is a good dancer,” she told the woman.

“So he is.”

***

Summer passed and the rains of early autumn began to appear at the horizon. Farmers returned to their fields and the fertile season put everyone to work as they prepared for yet another autumn and winter. Snow and her council were buried in fiscal reports and calculations for food storage; the Captain himself oversaw the recruitment for both Royal Guards and Queen’s Guard as William found himself quite busy with the birth of his first child. The kingdom had been calm as of late, but he knew better than to relax in his duties.

As the fruit trees ripened, Snow seemed thoughtful and withdrawn. The Duke, when questioned, refrained from answering and Snow herself avoided the subject at all costs. During one of their rare calm days, he was doing inventory in the armory when one of his men brought a message from the queen. He left the rest of the inventory to his right hand and dusted himself off, then headed towards the front courtyard.

Snow was perched in the branches of the royal tree when he arrived, skirts abandoned for breeches and royal airs for the young woman beneath them. She greeted him with a laugh, tossing him a ripe apple from one of the bountiful boughs. He caught it. “I believe this is the game played between you and William, my queen,” he said and took a bite of the apple. It was crisp and tart, strong like the queen the tree represented.

 “Once upon a time,” Snow agreed and clambered to the ground. She had changed these past few months, he thought, and though she only reached his shoulder, she seemed as tall as the castle itself. “But it fits for the queen to give the fruit of her tree to her captain, does it not?”

“Mayhap,” he agreed and took her hand as she stumbled on the cobblestones. “You called for me, my queen?”

She had stepped closer as she found her balance, her bare feet slapping over the sunwarmed stones. She stopped a mere foot away, looking into his face as if closeness would give her clarity. Her eyes were bright and he wondered how he’d ever seen the memory of anyone else in their depths.

“I remembered something this spring,” she said, the words barely more than a breath that touched his skin like the kiss of a fairy. “I wondered – why did I wake from that spell?” She reached up, brought her hand flat against his cheek. “I remembered words – a story – of a man coming home from a war and seeking solace with a woman he loved.”

“Loved,” he quietly agreed, the emphasis on the last syllable, and a smile quicker than a sunbeam flashed over her face.

“Loved,” she agreed. “For a long time, I remembered nothing more. But I believe I do now.”

She slowly raised herself towards him and he slipped an arm around her to steady her without a thought. She was close enough to share his breath and he knew that this was a step that couldn’t be retracted. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to doubt her, not this time.

“I remembered a kiss,” she said. “I remembered you.”

Then there was no distance between them and he let go of the pommel that symbolized his duty to her. He noted in the back of his mind that his men took up the slack, backs straightened and his second stepping closer, then they slipped from his mind as her hands turned him towards her and she opened the door closed between them.

“Snow,” he said  as they parted, resting his forehead against hers.

“You gave me blood, eyes and hands,” she said with her hands still on his face, her eyes still holding his captive. “I’m wondering if you did not give me your heart as well, long ago.”

He remembered her body pale and cold on a slate, remembered the dull feeling in his chest that had brought him to her – the loss of something that could have been. “Aye,” he said, “and I suppose I don’t need to ask for yours.” Her skin was sunwarm and smooth, _alive_ beneath his fingers.

She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him down again as an answer, and this time, there was nothing in his mind but her.


End file.
